Chapter 101

Chapter 101

Luo Qianyu was inwardly puzzled.

How could Wen Yu think he was still alive?

The fire set by the Ximo soldiers at Heifengkou had burned the entire battlefield beyond recognition, leaving no bones identifiable. Anyone who saw it would assume the Young Marquis had long since died in battle.

Yet Wen Yu not only believed he was alive but had also launched such a large-scale search. He had traveled day and night for so long, yet still hadn't managed to escape the search radius?

The young man silently turned his face away, trying to avoid the soldiers' gaze, but a soldier walked right past him.

Luo Qianyu was taken aback.

Then he realized.

Right... he was disguised now, so what was there to fear?

Not to mention a few Da Xi soldiers, even if Wen Yu himself stood right before him, he would absolutely fail to recognize him.

And indeed, the soldiers' suspicion wasn't directed at him, but at the masked Wurle beside him!

The leading soldier stopped in front of Wurle, his gaze probing as he stared at the mask. "Sir, wearing a mask to a restaurant, hiding your face like this—what's the reason?"

Wurle said nothing.

The soldier frowned, feeling slighted, and took half a step forward, his tone growing more forceful. "Take off the mask!"

The atmosphere instantly grew tense, fraught with the threat of conflict.

The Young Marquis instinctively glanced at the man, feeling worried, yet also inexplicably mixed with a hint of anticipation.

No, this wasn't the time to be curious about the face beneath the mask.

If Wurle got into trouble, both of them might be taken away. They were in the same boat now.

Thus, the Young Marquis spoke up before Wurle could, keeping his voice as steady as possible. "Sir, please calm your anger! This is my elder brother... He was scarred on his face as a child, his appearance is unsightly. He was always mocked by the villagers in the past. Now he wears a mask to avoid offending the eyes of you honorable soldiers."

Upon hearing this, the soldier merely snorted coldly. His fingertips already touched the hilt of the sword at his waist, his gaze turning even colder. "Unsightly appearance? Is he also a mute? I've asked so many times, and he hasn't answered half a word. Is he pretending to be stupid on purpose?"

Luo Qianyu reacted swiftly, his reply smooth and without a trace of guilt. "Yes, sir. My elder brother has been unable to speak since childhood. Even I, who am with him day and night, can only communicate through gestures. I've never heard him utter a word."

The surroundings seemed to freeze. The soldier fell silent for a moment.

Then, a soldier beside him couldn't help but snicker. "Truly pitiful. The men of your family are like this—one hides a scarred face behind a mask, the other is mute. With your lot, finding a wife must be harder than climbing to heaven, right?"

As soon as these words were spoken, the other soldiers immediately burst into mocking laughter.

The youth sensed a slight stiffening in Wurle's aura beside him, as if a cold surge of anger was rising.

Luo Qianyu's heart tightened. He hurriedly reached out and grasped the man's hand, using the motion of standing up to guide him toward the inn's inner hall, his fingertips secretly giving the other's palm a slight squeeze.

Luo Qianyu offered a faint, polite smile, raised his hand in a salute, and went along with the conversation. "What you honorable soldiers say is true. My elder brother and I indeed have yet to marry."

Then he lowered his gaze, cupped his hands toward the soldiers, and said, "Honorable soldiers, please enjoy your meal. My elder brother and I are weary from travel and feel quite fatigued. Now that we've eaten and drunk our fill, we shall retire to our room to rest. We bid you farewell."

But he had only taken two steps when a voice from behind, belonging to the leading soldier, suddenly called out, "Wait."

The laughter from the soldiers instantly ceased.

The inn fell quiet again.

That man's gaze fixed directly on Wurle, his voice heavy. "Mute."

"Didn't I tell you to take off the mask?"

...

Luo Qianyu's Adam's apple bobbed, and his heart rose to his throat.

Although he didn't know what face lay beneath the mask, he knew that if Wurle was unwilling to reveal his identity and a conflict truly erupted, the first to suffer wouldn't be them, but these soldiers who didn't know any better.

He had witnessed Wurle's skills.

Just as the standoff reached a critical point, a cold voice suddenly came from the inn's entrance, directly interrupting the confrontation. "What's all this commotion here?"

Everyone turned to look. The newcomer was tall and lean, with a long face, a sallow complexion devoid of any color, and also wearing a Da Xi military uniform.

He swept his gaze over the messy table, his brows immediately furrowing, adding severity to his expression. "I ordered you to patrol the border and post notices before sunset. And here you are, hiding away to have a private feast?"

It was the officer in charge of these soldiers.

The soldiers instantly panicked. The one standing before Wurle hastily turned around, and even those who hadn't finished their noodles at the table quickly stood up, hurriedly putting on their helmets, bowing their heads as they gathered around their officer. They no longer had any mind for the matter of removing the mask.

Only then did Luo Qianyu secretly breathe a sigh of relief. Not daring to linger, he quickly pulled the man along and hurried up to the inn's second floor.

After pushing the door open and entering the room, he closed it behind him.

Once back in the room, the Young Marquis didn't speak again. He simply walked to the bed, lifted the brocade quilt, and lay down.

He turned his back to the masked man and didn't speak to him.

Gradually, the Young Marquis actually fell asleep.

He didn't know when he drifted off, but this sleep was far from comfortable. His consciousness was hazy, his head throbbed with waves of dizziness, and his entire body felt alarmingly hot. Before long, his inner robe was soaked with sweat and clung to his back.

He was probably ill.

In his dazed state, Luo Qianyu felt someone supporting his back, helping him sit up halfway.

That person wiped away the fine sweat on his temples and neck. Then, he felt the friction of fabric against his calf. The bandage that had been wrapped for so long was untied. A faint scent of medicinal herbs wafted over. Before he could discern it clearly, a new bandage was already gently wrapped around, snug but not too tight.

Was it because of that snake?

But why was he the only one with a persistent high fever? Wurle had also sucked out the venom with his mouth, yet now he seemed completely fine.

Was the difference in their constitutions really this vast?!

After roughly the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, it seemed someone else entered, as if checking his pulse.

He faintly heard low murmuring voices near his ear, but his consciousness was too muddled to make out a single word.

Wurle seemed to have gone out again. This time, the man was gone for a long while. By the time he returned, the sky outside the window was already pitch black.

Even the lanterns under the inn's eaves were lit.

This time, the masked man had brought something back. He immediately had the inn attendant take it to be decocted. Not long after, the man returned with a bowl of medicine. The bitter, pungent smell of the concoction could be detected from afar.

The Young Marquis frowned.

He felt himself being propped up.

Sleepiness overwhelmed him again, his eyelids heavy, fighting to stay open, let alone open his mouth to drink the medicine. He turned his head away, silently refusing.

His strength was gradually draining away, his throat dry and parched, even swallowing had become a struggle... He felt like he was dying.

Before long, he was deep asleep again.

Ever since being bitten by that snake, he dreamed every time he slept.

But this time, he actually dreamed of Wen Yu.

He wasn’t at the border; he had returned to the capital, standing atop layers upon layers of roof tiles, clutching a pot of wine he hadn't drunk from.

And when Wen Yu appeared, Luo Qianyu’s first reaction was panic, instinctively taking a step back.

Wen Yu seemed to catch his movement, the cold, murky glint in his eyes growing even more intense. Luo Qianyu’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and suddenly, he didn’t dare move.

He didn’t know why he wanted to run, only following his instincts, sensing vaguely that if he didn’t escape, the consequences might be something he couldn’t bear.

He had never seen Wen Yu like this before.

Luo Qianyu thought for a moment, then tried to calm him down first, lowering his voice to say, “Wen Yu, this is actually a dream. In the real world, I'm already dead, killed on the battlefield. You know that.”

“I’m not Luo Qianyu. Even if I were, I’m... just a lonely, wandering spirit.”

“The Young Marquis is dead.” Luo Qianyu’s Adam’s apple moved as he tried to comfort him. “You... should accept this and move on.”

The night sky stretched overhead, the only source of light being the countless stars scattered across it.

Even though it was a dream, Wen Yu’s face was still breathtakingly beautiful, but the way he looked at him was something Luo Qianyu had rarely seen before. If he had to describe it... Luo Qianyu froze for a moment. The word for it was... greed.

Wen Yu was looking at him with an almost greedy intensity.

When the wine pot fell to the ground, the clear liquid splashed up, dampening the tiles beneath his feet. He heard Wen Yu’s voice, “You’re lying.”

Luo Qianyu was startled but had nowhere left to run.

“If you’re a ghost, how could I catch you?”

Then, the world turned upside down.

It was as if he had returned to the day before they parted, with the only difference being that Wen Yu took things further—not only kissing him but also biting him.

Fortunately, the Young Marquis had an unshakable mindset. He knew that even if it happened all over again, this was just a dream. At least in reality, he was free and unfettered, and no one had found him yet, making him a true wandering ghost.

But soon, he couldn’t stay calm anymore.

His neck, his collarbone—he could endure those, trembling as Wen Yu moved to the crimson bud on his chest, but in the end, even his inner thighs...

By the end, the corners of Luo Qianyu's eyes were red.

He asked Wen Yu what it would take for him to let him go.

He thought the other man wouldn’t respond, but Wen Yu lowered his gaze to look at him and asked softly, “Why didn’t you drink the medicine?”

Luo Qianyu was taken aback.

Wen Yu was asking why he hadn’t drunk the bowl of medicine the mask man brought back after being poisoned by the snake.

Luo Qianyu’s tongue felt tight, and he lowered his eyes, whispering, “I know, I know... if I don’t drink it, I’ll die. But I’m so tired, even swallowing is difficult. How could I drink such a large bowl of bitter medicine...”

Wen Yu didn’t speak, nor did he respond.

Luo Qianyu waited for a long time, but Wen Yu remained silent. As drowsiness washed over him again, he gradually closed his eyes, his eyelashes trembling slightly.

By the time the dream faded, Wen Yu had already disappeared.

He wasn’t in the capital; he was back in that forest inn. Without his personal guard, the only one by his side was the silent mask man, Wurle.

His vision was hazy and blurred, unable to focus.

...

When Luo Qianyu opened his eyes, his pupils contracted. The man leaned down, pressing his lips against his, the bitter medicinal liquid passing into his mouth. He couldn’t make a sound, their lips sealed tight, forcing him to swallow.